


The Doubt in the Doctor

by Rochelle_Templer



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Missing and Added scenes, and some fluff, somewhat angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-01 17:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12709284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: A re-telling of the episode The Bones on the Blue Line from Sweets' perspective.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older fic that I started to write as soon as I'd seen The Bones on the Blue Line. I kept thinking that there was a lot more that could have come from Sweets' plot-line in the episode and this fic is the result.

The day had started out like many others for Doctor Lance Sweets. He ambled onto the subway on his way to the FBI building and work. He put his ear buds into his ears and leaned back to listen to his iPod while riding.

As he sat there, he started to let his mind drift, and he started to watch the other passengers. It had become a sort of game for him. He would try to guess things about them from things like their clothing choices, their mannerisms, even what they chose to read while riding.

 _‘People have no idea how much they reveal themselves in these little things,’_ Sweets smiled to himself.

He glanced over and saw one guy, he looked about Sweets’ age, staring at his phone. The guy fell into a seat next to him as he stared. Soon he put his head down and looked like he was about to cry. Lance was immediately filled with the need to help him. He leaned over and yanked the ear buds out of his ears.

However, he was delighted to see that the guy was not crying because he was sad, but because he was happy. He had been fighting leukemia for eight years and had just found out that he was clean. His joy was infectious as he began to tell Sweets about all the things that he planned to do now.  Like traveling and sleeping with exotic women. He had laughed and shook the guy’s hand.

Sweets knew that the man’s happiness had nothing to do with him, but part of the reason he had become a psychologist was so that he could experience moments like this with his patients: that moment when everything fell into place, and they knew that life was going to work out. So he enjoyed being able to share in this happiness.

Suddenly, Lance felt the train begin to shake and heard a deep rumbling sound. The lights flickered a bit. Sweets gulped as it happened again; he knew it wasn’t beyond the relm of possibility for there to be an earthquake here in D.C. But he didn’t like the idea of being underground while it happened.

Then he heard the groan of metal and concrete being strained to their limits and there was a rush of water onto the subway tracks. Sweets flinched as he saw the water hit the window of his subway car. All the sudden, he saw a mangled corpse splat against the window.

“What the hell was that?” the man he was talking to yelled. Lance was startled too, but the truth was he had gotten somewhat used to seeing human remains in all sorts of gruesome configurations. Still, that did not make the sight of a half-rotted body slamming into their window any less disturbing.

The water slammed harder into the side of the subway car and caused it to shift violently across the track. Sweets grabbed his seat to hold himself in place. The man next to him was thrown into the pole in the center of the car and his head bounced off it. He fell to the floor limp. The train stopped moving and Lance dropped down onto his knees next to him.

He could see that the man’s were wide open, still and unseeing. Blood oozed from a cut in the man’s forehead. Sweets shook him a little to try to get him to respond. He touched his fingers to his throat but felt nothing. _‘He can’t be dead. I was just talking to him.’_ He pulled him closer to see if he could feel breath coming from his mouth, but there was nothing. Just cold stillness. _‘No…he just beat cancer…he can’t be dead…he can’t…it’s not right…’_ Lance began to tremble as he let the body slide out of his arms and onto the floor. The eyes kept staring at him; Sweets couldn’t bear to close them.

The door opened to the subway car, and he was vaguely aware of people around him scrambling to get out, yelling and crying. But as he stood up, all he could see and hear were those dead eyes and his own breathing. _‘It’s not right…it’s not right,’_ he kept chanting in his mind. He soon felt himself go numb.

He staggered out onto the platform and ignored the workers attempts to ask him if he was all right. Sweets shrugged them off eventually and just kept staring at the car he just came from. As he thought about the man in there, dead, he felt his breathing quicken.

 _‘No. No, I can’t lose it here. I can’t,’_ he thought. It had been years since Lance was this close to a full panic attack. He struggled to calm down, but felt himself losing the battle. Sweets knew he needed to do something to help him keep it together. Instinctively he grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket, and hit the speed dial. Miraculously, there was a signal.

“Sweets, look I can’t talk right now,” Booth’s voice said over the phone. “Bones and I just got this call about some body in the subway and we…”

“Booth,” Sweets interrupted. At the sound of his tone, Booth’s voice instantly softened.

“Hey Sweets, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“He…he’s dead,” he said. “I was just talking to him…and now he’s dead.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. What’s going on? Who’s dead?”

“He…he said that he was going to do all these things,” Lance said his voice cracking a bit. “Things he had always wanted to do. But I watched him die.”  He tried to steady his voice, but ended up sniffing instead. “I...I held him while he died.”

“Sweets, Lance, listen to me,” Booth said his voice serious, yet concerned. “I need you to tell me where you are and if you’re all right.”

“I…I’m in the subway,” Sweets finally gulped. “I was on the train that…crashed. I’m ok.” He heard Booth give a sigh of relief.

“Ok, listen. Bones and I have already been notified about a body there so we are heading up there now” he said. “I want you to sit tight until we get there. All right? Just stay there, Sweets.”

“Ok,” Lance said, his breathing finally starting to slow down. “Booth I…”

“It’s ok, Sweets,” Booth said. “Just relax and we’ll be there in a few minutes.

After Sweets put his phone back in his pocket, he began to pace around the platform. He saw the EMTs swarming around and checking people for injuries. They tried talking to him, but he quickly brushed them off, and they soon ignored him when they saw that he didn’t seem to be hurt. He watched as they began to lift the dead man off the train on a gurney. Sweets turned away quickly, trying to prevent the possibility of another panic attack.

At least they had closed his eyes by now.

* * *

 

A few minutes later, Sweets heard Brennan and Booth coming down to the platform. Brennan headed off to look at the body, while Booth headed his way.

Ordinarily he would have been a bit thrilled over the fact that Booth seemed to genuinely worry about him, but for now he was just glad that his presence helped him to not feel so shaky and scared.

He felt his voice quaver again as he told Booth about how lucky they all were. Subway car full of people, but just a broken arm for injuries. ‘ _Oh except the guy who had just beaten cancer and was now dead.’_ Sweets was sure he was babbling like an idiot, but Booth just nodded his head and listened. After a moment, he began to guide Lance over to a slab of stone and pointed down to it.

“Just sit and relax,” Booth told him. Sweets was glad that he offered to take him to the office; he was sure that if had had to concentrate on walking or traffic, he would have hit a lamppost or something.

* * *

 

While riding with Booth in his SUV, Sweets quickly realized that they were not heading toward the FBI building.

“Hey, where are we going?” Sweets asked.

“ _We_ are not going anywhere,” Booth answered. “ _You_ are taking the afternoon off. I’m dropping you at your apartment.”

“Agent Booth, I’m fine,” he protested. “I have a lot of work that I should…”

“Listen Sweets,” Booth sighed. “You just watched someone die. Now, I know you’ll start with all this shrink speak about ‘post traumatic stress’ and ‘coping mechanisms’, but the truth is that seeing something like that is never easy. I was in the Army and I never got used to it.”

“Agent Booth, I…if you want to…”

“No, don’t try to psycho-analyze me,” Booth interrupted. “You just need to listen to me and take the afternoon off. In fact, maybe you should take the next couple of days off.” Sweets frowned at the idea.

“I’m not suggesting it because I think you can’t handle it,” Booth said. Lance was momentarily startled at how Booth seemed to read his mind.

“I’m suggesting it because I know you,” he continued. “You process things differently. Bones, she considers things from a rational perspective: she simply looks at the facts in front of her and makes a decision from there. You, on the other hand, pick at and analyze everything. You turn it around over and over again in that squint brain of yours to find some deeper meaning.” Booth swerved hard to avoid getting hit by some woman who was texting away on her phone and then turned his attention back to Sweets.

“Something as big as this: you’re going to need several go-arounds in your mind to figure out what you think and feel about it all,” Booth said. “So take some time off to do that.”

“Wow, “Sweets said softly, slightly awed by Booth’s words. “That was…very insightful Agent Booth. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well…I happen to know a few things about reading people, Sweets,” Booth smirked. “Even without two doctorates.”

* * *

 

After Booth left him in front of his apartment building, Sweets felt torn. He was truly grateful that Booth had tried to take care of him and a part of him wanted to follow his advice and go inside and relax. But another larger part of him could not let himself simply relax and do nothing. He needed to do something. Something to help ‘restore the balance’, so to speak.

He needed to help someone.

_‘Since you did nothing on that subway. Just watched as a life that was just beginning get snuffed out.’_

Sweets shuddered at that thought. He strode purposely toward the apartment’s garage to get his car. Despite his jitteriness, he was determined to reach his destination: the Jeffersonian. Doctor Brennan would be there, as would Doctor Saroyan, Doctor Hodgins and Angela.

 _‘That earthquake was sure to unnerve at least one of them,’_ he thought. _‘Well maybe not Doctor Brennan…’_ He could talk to them and help them deal with it.

That would be something, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included some OCs for Sweets' parents in this chapter. While I realize that they're not completely canon-compliant anymore, I can't really bring myself to erase them from my fic.

Walking up to the forensic platform, Sweets’ heart constricted a little. He had actually forgotten that Daisy was up for rotation as Brennan’s assistant.

“Lance,” she said her voice soft but concerned.

He took a deep breath as he watched her approach him. Despite the fact that the calming exercises seemed to help Daisy maintain a more controlled demeanor, she could not hide how worried she seemed.

He tried to walk past her and “offered his services” anyone affected by the earthquake. _‘After all earthquakes are scary things. Someone else besides me is affected, I’m sure.’_ Unfortunately, Brennan only pointed out that Booth seemed to think that he should take the day off. Daisy still smiled at him and moved closer.

“You just needed to see me, didn’t you Lancelot.”

Sweets frowned. He wanted to help someone. Daisy would just want to fuss over him, and he couldn’t let her do that. It’d be all too easy to just let her put her arms around him and have her soothe him with her murmuring and cooing. If he let that happen there would be no way he could focus on helping the others cope with the earthquake. He didn’t mean to snap at her, but his feelings were very fragile right now so he had a hard time controlling them.

But in the end it didn’t matter. Cam halted any attempt for him to counsel anyone by reminding him that he had just watched someone die. He was frustrated, but he knew that there wasn’t any maliciousness in it. She simply and gently told him to go home and had offered to have Hodgins drive him. At least she promised to call him if they needed him for anything. It was a respectful gesture, which showed that she didn’t discredit him or think any less of his ability to do his job.

When Cam called Hodgins over to ask him to take Sweets home, Sweets was sure that there would be a string of protests about how he had more important things to do like analyze particulates. But to his amazement, Hodgins simply shrugged and said ‘sure’ to her request.

“Come on Sweets, we’ll grab my car,” he said. Sweets was so shocked that he just mutely followed.

* * *

 

Speeding along the road in Hodgins’ car, Sweets continued to stare out the window. The sun heated the glass that he was leaning against, but Sweets barely felt it. He had wanted to help so badly; it had hurt a little when Cam had sent him home. He found himself snapping at Hodgins.

“You don’t have to give me a lift,” he said. “I have a car you know.” But Hodgins did not take the bait.

“You saw someone die, Sweets,” he said softly. “You don’t just go on with your day after something like that.”  Sweets swallowed hard. He felt bad that he was being cranky with Hodgins, but he was starting to feel like a child with everyone ferrying him around.  He tried to calm his voice, but found it cracking again instead.  

“Right of course,” he said. “I was just…you know I thought if I could help other people…”

“Yes, but sometimes you can’t,” Hodgins interrupted him. Sweets sniffed. He knew that Hodgins was trying to make him feel better, but his words reminded Sweets that he often felt like he wasn’t helping while working with everyone at the Jeffersonian. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they didn’t really need him around. Especially right now.  

“I…I don’t want to disappear…without living the life I want to live,” Sweets said. Hodgins may have said something else to him, but by that point, his mind was a million miles away.   

* * *

 After a few more minutes, they arrived back at Sweets’ apartment building. Sweets got out of the car, and Hodgins leaned toward him and held his hand out an open window.

“Hey man, give me your car keys so I can get your car back to you later,” he said. Sweets shook his head.

“You don’t have to…”

“It’s no problem,” Hodgins grinned. “I’ll just get Angela to follow in your car, and then the two of us can go pick up hers. It’ll be the perfect excuse to…” Hodgins stopped and cleared his throat a bit when he saw Sweets staring at him.

“I mean, I’ll call you later when I drop off your car so you can get the key back.”  Sweets took his car keys off his key ring and tossed them over to him and he caught it in his hand.

“See ya,” he said and then took off.  Sweets smiled as he watched him drive away.

 _‘He still hasn’t let her go,’_ he thought wistfully. ‘ _Not really.’_

Since this was the second time that he had been deposited at his apartment in a matter of hours, Sweets decided to stop fighting the inevitable. He knew that Booth had already informed his superiors that he would not be coming in today, so he really had nothing to do.

He went inside and changed out of his suit into a long sleeved tee shirt and jeans. He then flopped down onto his couch. He stared at the entertainment center which held his TV and his extensive DVD collection and thought about popping in a movie to watch. But that didn’t really seem appealing. He glanced over his bookshelves but knew that he wasn’t in the mood for reading either.

He suddenly knew what he needed to do.

Sweets picked up his keys and walked into his bedroom to open a drawer to his nightstand that held a small wooden box. He took the box and walked back out the front room and sat it on the coffee table and sat back down across from it. He took his keys and unlocked it, opening it up. Inside were only two objects. One was a heavy, plastic kaleidoscope whose colors had almost completely faded. Sitting next to it was a small, paper swan.

The swan was an origami figure and was quite fragile. It had been made many years ago and the paper was stained by dirt and worn from handling.

It was the first thing that his father, David Stephen Sweets, had ever given him.

Sweets very carefully lifted the swan out and sat it on his knee. He never forgot the day he got it. His father had had no reason to reach out to him that day he met him at the orphanage. But he did it anyway. It was that day that Sweets learned that someone could love someone else with no expectations or strings.

He knew it was a bit of an odd ritual, but ever since he father passed away, Sweets got out this paper swan whenever he needed to feel close to him again. If he stared at it long enough, he could still hear his father’s voice in his head.

 _‘Dad, I wish I could talk to you,’_ he thought.

Soon a memory began to fill his senses, and Sweets closed his eyes so he could re-live it.

* * *

 

It was when he was seventeen, and he was a few months away from completing his first doctorate. He was on break from his studies and was spending a week with his parents. Lance and David were sitting together in the family room, eating sandwiches and enjoying each other’s company.

_“So, what’s on your mind, sport?”David asked._

_“Uh…nothing. Just busy with classes and stuff.” David began to chuckle._

_“Lance, you and I both know that you are a terrible liar when you try to fool the people you care about and feel close to,” he said. “So you know I can see right through that. Just tell me what’s bothering you.”_

_Lance sighed. His father never missed anything; even at sixty-three his mind was as sharp as ever. He put his plate with its bits of leftover sandwich off to the side._

_“I…I wonder if I’m making a mistake,” Lance mumbled._

_“Why do you think that sport?”_

_“I just don’t know if I’m cut out for this. Being a psychologist,” he said. “I keep thinking that maybe I should do something else.”_

_“Like what?” David asked. Lance sighed again heavily frustrated._

_“I don’t know. Something. I just…I just don’t want to do something and then it doesn’t work out. I don’t want to waste my life.”_

_“I see,” David nodded. “And you think that all this could just be a waste in the long run? That you’ll see something you should have done instead?”_

_“Well, yeah,” Lance admitted. David put his arm around him._

_“Lance, everyone has doubts like this,” he said. “It’s a little different for you because you’ll be a doctor by the time most people graduate from high school.” Lance noticed the shine of pride in his father’s eyes as he said that._

_“But basically, it’s the same sort of questions,” David continued. “’Is this the right job for me? ‘Is this the right life?’ It’s ok to have these questions. In fact, I’d be a bit worried if you didn’t have these thoughts. Especially at your age.”_

_“So what do I do?” Lance asked. David leaned closer to him._

_“The important thing to remember is that you need to follow your heart,” he said. “You have a good heart Lance. It won’t steer you wrong, if you take the time to truly listen to it.”David put his hand on Lance’s chest._

_“So if you are wondering about the career path you’ve chosen just ask yourself: is this where my heart lies? Then you will have your answer.” He then reached over and tousled Lance’s hair._

_“Just remember sport, that no matter what you choose, your mother and I will always support you.”_

* * *

 

Sweets opened his eyes and sniffled, rubbing his tears away.

He realized that what had him so scared was not dying. He had faced death as a child, and there were times growing up when he feared living more than dying. Nor was it the idea of “disappearing” like he mentioned to Hodgins. Not strictly. Although he had gained some notoriety for being one of the youngest psychologists the FBI had ever employed, and had actually been on TV a few times, Sweets did not feel that he had to be part of some epic project or case in order to validate his life. Being able to help people had its own rewards for him.

What was scaring him was the idea that he was just drifting through life and was no longer listening to his heart. That he was leading a pleasant, but empty life.

 _‘But how do I figure out where my heart is when I feel like this?’_ he thought.

_‘That’s up to you, sport.’_

Sweets gently placed the paper swan back in the box and closed it up and locked it. He then brushed the remaining wetness from his eyes.

_‘Thanks Dad. I guess I’ll have to take it from here.’_


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Sweets called Booth to let him know that he was going to come into work that day. To be honest, Sweets wasn’t sure if he was ready, but he knew that he would brood way too much if he stayed at home again.

However, he did decide to cancel his appointments with his patients for the week, and focus more on his profiling assignments. Right now, it seemed easier to get inside the head of someone he only saw on paper than to try to work out the problems of the people he met with face to face.

He finished typing up another report for an agent working on a murder investigation when he saw Booth walking into his office after only the briefest of knocks. _‘I really should consider a lock for that door,’_ Sweets thought a little darkly.

“Sweets, you busy?” Booth asked. Sweets sighed and hit the ‘send’ button on his screen to send out that report.

“Why no, Agent Booth, just finishing things up,” he said. Sweets turned in his chair to face him. The truth was he was kind of glad to see Booth; he was thinking about asking if he would go to lunch with him. But now it looked like he had some sort of chore for him to do.

“Good. We got those disks that have the backup copies of all the letters Aragon wrote and received,” Booth said. “I thought we’d go over them, see if anyone stands out.”

“Sure,” Sweets nodded, standing up. The corpse he had seen on the subway was turning out to be part an interesting case. The victim had actually been a letter and document writer…despite the fact that he was blind. On the way to the conference room, Booth told Sweets about how the victim had had some kind of surgery to correct his blindness and because of the rarity of said surgery; they were able to identify the body.

 _‘Great, one guy beats cancer and is killed, and another gets his sight back and is killed,’_ Sweets thought. _‘Like I didn’t have enough tragedy on my mind right now.’_

* * *

 

As Booth brought up more letters onto the computer screen to scan through, Sweets got up from his chair and leaned against a wall. It had become clear to him that Booth didn’t really need him for this. This was a way for Booth to see how he was doing and to keep an eye on him. Sweets appreciated the gesture, but since he wasn’t truly engaged in the task, it was easy for his mind to wander back to the subway and figuring out how to use his father’s advice.

“Hey, Sweets, are you sure you should be back to work?”

This broke Sweets out of his reverie, and he shook himself a little.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Booth nodded.

“You know one way you could look at is, he died happy,” Booth said. Sweets moved closer as he listened to him reason that at least the man died while ecstatic about his good news. That idea did not comfort Sweets; he was all too familiar with the idea of something wonderful happening in his life followed by something bad.

“You’re going to think this is stupid,” Sweets sighed as he sat back down next to him. And he certainly felt stupid as he told Booth that the whole thing seemed like a message to him. A message telling him to ‘go ye forth and live life to the fullest’ and all that. But instead of scoffing at him, Booth just nodded sagely.

“People should do that more often: moment by moment, day by day, but they don’t,” Booth replied. Sweets swallowed hard at that. _‘He’s right, they don’t,’_ he thought. _‘I haven’t been.’_ A part of him cursed at the way Booth was able to read his doubts so well.

“Look at this,” Booth said, gesturing toward the screen. Sweets looked over the letter that he was indicating. At first he didn’t see anything significant, but then Booth highlighted one line in particular from the letter. _‘People have killed for less? That’s a strong statement.’_

“It’s a death threat,” Sweets exclaimed. Booth nodded again, smirking a little.

“Sure is,” he said. “We need to talk to this guy.” Booth shuffled some papers around while Sweets kept staring at the letter on the screen.

“Why didn’t I catch that?” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it Sweets,” Booth sighed. Sweets jumped slightly; he didn’t realize that he had said that out loud. “You would have caught it too if you had been looking more carefully.”

“Sorry,” Sweets said, hanging his head a little. “I guess I’m not doing a good job.”

“If you mean that you’re not doing a good job at following my advice about taking some time off, then no you aren’t,” Booth said, getting up to stand next to him. “As for the rest of it…you have a lot on your mind, Sweets. Even the best of us have bad days and miss things sometimes. The important thing is to not let that bother you.”

“Ok,” Sweets mumbled, hanging his head a little more. Suddenly he felt Booth put an arm around his shoulders and begin to guide him out of the conference room.

“Come on, let’s go grab some lunch before I haul that guy in,” Booth said as they walked. “You probably didn’t eat breakfast today, and I don’t need you fainting dead away from hunger.”

“Agent Booth, you don’t need to…”

“Besides that, you probably also need to talk. Maybe not about what happened in the subway, but about something,” Booth continued. “It’s never a good sign when you are actually silent. Outside of that creepy stare you give Bones and me in therapy sessions sometimes. So, come on, let’s eat.”  Sweets actually found himself smiling a little for the first time since yesterday.

“I’ll have you know that I’m carefully analyzing the dynamic between you and Doctor Brennan,” Sweets protested. “It is _not_ a ‘creepy stare.’”

“You should look in the mirror sometime while you do it. It’s creepy.”

Sweets snorted a little as he enjoyed another playful sparring session with Booth. Suddenly, lunch seemed like a very good idea.

* * *

 

That night, over cartons of take out Chinese, Sweets pondered Booth’s words again. After thinking about it, he wasn’t that surprised at Booth’s response to his ‘live life to the fullest’ comment. As an agent, he saw firsthand many people who claimed that they were just trying to get more out of life or better their lives by taking someone else’s. Booth had a very high regard for life. Much like Doctor Brennan. He would see the hypocritical nature of someone taking a life to live theirs more fully.

 _‘Wyatt was right about them not being opposites,’_ he sighed, impressed again at the former psychiatrist’s insight.

Plus, he understood that Booth, himself probably grappled with the feeling that he may not be doing what he truly wanted either at times. This became evident the first time when Booth came to him about his brother, Jared, wanting to run away to India on a motorcycle.

_‘It would be hard to listen to platitudes like that when you’re trying so hard to control everything and everyone around you so that you can protect the people you care about.’_

Sweets heard his phone vibrate and picked it up. _‘Daisy.’_ He knew that avoiding her like this would bother her, but he just couldn’t work on the questions he was working through if she was hovering around him.

Part of that was because he loved her. Daisy seemed to feel everything that he was feeling at times: good or bad. This whole thing was putting him into a dark place and he really did not want to put her through that.

Especially since he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life yet.

* * *

 

After getting some more profiling work done at the office the following morning, Sweets headed over to the Jeffersonian. He was planning to go over those letters Argon wrote with Angela. There he saw Doctor Brennan standing near her office. She kept turning her head from side to side, like she was looking for someone or something. Sweets walked over to her.

“Doctor Brennan, can I help you find something?” he said. She looked at him, surprised.

“Doctor Sweets? Shouldn’t you be taking some time off” she asked. “Booth seemed to think that would be best.”

“I’m fine, Doctor Brennan. What about you?” He noticed that she was still looking around him and even over his shoulder.

“I’m looking for Ms. Inagawa,” she answered. “I was going to discuss with her the fascinating part of my book where Doctor Reichs is able to identify the victim, but she seems to have run off to gather more meaningless trivia.”

Sweets nodded. Booth had told him about the Japanese reporter and about some of her questions. He wished that he could be a fly on the wall during some of her interview sessions, since there were many questions about her book that he would love to ask. Granted he saw his questions as more intellectually valid; after all he _was_ writing a book about her. But secretly he wished that he could hear more about the origins of page 187…

“I’m sure she’ll find you soon enough,” Sweets said, trying to smile. Then he noticed that Brennan was staring at him, much like she did while looking over bones.

“Doctor Sweets, did you know that statistically deaths caused by heart disease and malignant neoplasm tend to be more than three times higher than those caused by accidents?” she said.

“Ah…Ok… I didn’t know that,” Sweets stammered. Brennan nodded, clearly pleased with herself.

“Yes. In fact unintentional injuries tend to be much more frequent than say traffic or transportation accidents,” she continued. “So the likelihood of meeting another former cancer patient who dies quite suddenly in front of you is infinitesimally small. Plus, since I assume you are healthy, you should have nothing to worry about as far as resuming your normal daily activities.”

Sweets stared at her for a moment, but then gave her another smile.

“Thank you Doctor Brennan. It means a lot to me.” Brennan raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “Are you becoming more interested in death related statistics? While I don’t believe in psychology, I know that Booth thinks that an over-fascination with death can indicate…”

“No, just…thank you for telling me that,” Sweets said. “Your information was very comforting.” Brennan’s face lit up.

“You’re welcome. Although I’m sure you could have found these statistics yourself if you were to…”

“Doctor Brennan, I was wondering if you could tell me more about Agent Andy’s feelings for Doctor Reichs after the scene on page 187.”

Both Sweets and Brennan jumped a little at Inagawa’s sudden appearance from behind Sweets. Brennan gave a frustrated gust of air.

“Ms. Inagawa, by focusing on these kinds of meaningless details, your article will lack an interesting discussion of the forensic techniques from the book.”

Sweets backed away from the conversation, smiling more than what he had in two days. He would have liked to stay, but he told Angela that he was coming so he walked toward her office.

* * *

 

At first it had gone smoothly as Sweets had immersed himself into profiling the victim through his letters. His concentration helped to distract him from what had been troubling him.

As he read the letters something stirred in the back of his mind. _‘The wording, the way the phrases flow…I’ll bet Aragon wasn’t just writing these to fulfill a client’s request: he was secretly writing to the person he, himself, was in love with,’_ he thought. Sweets was telling Angela this as Daisy walked in.

Sweets immediately felt guilty. She had been calling him regularly for the past couple of days and he hadn’t returned any of her phone calls. He hated himself a bit for treating her this way, especially since she was being so patient with him.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he told her. Angela started to leave, but Sweets didn’t want her to go. That would just allow the conversation with Daisy to continue, which wasn’t what he wanted. He meant it when he told her that he would talk to her later.

Sweets was pretty sure that when he figured things out, it would involve her in a big way.

“What’s going on Sweets?” Angela asked after Daisy left. Sweets crossed his arms across his chest, as if to close himself off from her question.

“I have one life, I don’t want to play it safe,” he said. “So now I want to work.”

Angela nodded and dropped it at first as she explained how she was going to track the IP addresses to see if anything came up. After the startling revelation that the subway manager who was at the scene of the accident was involved, Sweets felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You know Sweets; if you want to talk you should…”

“But I don’t,” Sweets snapped. “I just want to work.” He shrugged off Angela’s hand and walked closer to the screen. But then he felt Angela move close to him again.

“Sweets, don’t feel you have to have all the answers all the time,” she said. “We all get a little lost sometimes. What’s important is that we try to find our way back.” Sweets turned to her and she put her hand back on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I think you’ll find your way soon enough,” she said gently.

“Thanks Angela,” he said as he turned back around. Happily for him, they did not discuss it further.

* * *

 

The next day, Sweets decided to visit the Jeffersonian before getting lunch so that he could see how the case was going. As it turned out, Brennan had already left for the FBI building to interview the cop who the subway manger had hired Aragon to write those letters for. Sweets discussed it with Cam in her office.

“She apparently used her former boyfriend’s gun to shoot Aragon,” Cam said.

“A symbolic gesture,” Sweets said. “In her mind, Aragon was directly responsible for her breaking up with Eddie. I’m sure she feels betrayed or misled somehow by the fact that the subway manager did not live up to the promise of his letters.”

“I bet you’re right,” Cam said rising from her chair. “And speaking of betrayed, you need to speak with Miss Wick. She is driving us crazy.”

“Doctor Saroyan, I know Daisy is a bit trying for all of you sometimes, but she is working very hard to learn to control her hyper-emotions.”

“No, you don’t understand Sweets,” she said. “I actually had to have Angela take her out for a drive at one point. Do you know why? Because she keeps walking around here, sighing and moaning. She’s scared about how you feel about her.”

“I know that I’ve been avoiding her recently,” Sweets sighed. “I just…I…”

“Look Sweets, I won’t pretend to understand your relationship with her,” Cam said. “But it’s clear that she cares for you. Just like the rest of us, she’s worried about how you are holding up.”

“I’m fine, Doctor Saroyan.” Cam held her hand up.

“I’m sure you are, Doctor Sweets,” she said. “None of us doubted your ability to handle this. But like it or not, you’re part of our team, and it’s our responsibility to make sure that everyone on the team is all right. Including you.” She took a deep breath and looked down for a moment before returning her gaze to him.

“You should talk to Daisy,” she said. “Not just so she’ll leave us alone, but because I think she could help you.”

Sweets looked away from Cam for a moment, but soon looked back at her again. While he did have a somber expression on his face, his eyes were warm, appreciative.

“Thank you Doctor Saroyan,” he said. Cam smiled at him.

“No problem Doctor Sweets. Now, go…stop Miss Wick before Angela finally snaps and has to hurt her.”

* * *

 

Before meeting with Daisy, Sweets decided to get a little more work done in his office. Sitting at his desk, he typed furiously at yet another report. After finishing it and saving it, he pushed his chair away from his desk and started to think.

He thought about these last few days. Before now he had focused only on that moment in the subway when he saw a life fade away in front of him. But now he started to think about the aftermath of all that. He thought of Booth’s protectiveness, Brennan’s attempt to reassure him, Angela’s gentle encouragement, Hodgins’ sympathy and Cam’s empathy. As he contemplated the support he had received from them, his father’s advice came back to him.

_‘Just ask yourself: is this where my heart is? Then you’ll know the answer.’_

He smiled to himself. He understood now that the reason he had decided to immerse himself in work was because this is where his heart was. At least partially. He loved his job. _‘No not job, vocation.’_ His father was right when he said it was a good fit for him, and Doctor (well Chef) Wyatt had been more accurate than he could have ever guessed when he said that Sweets was following a ‘deeper calling.’

He also knew that even though his parents were gone, he belonged to a family again: the family at the Jeffersonian. It was a rather odd and dysfunctional family at times, but it was _his_ family now. David and Carolyn Sweets would always have the first place in his heart as his original family, but now his heart also belonged with his Jeffersonian family.

He was leading a life of purpose with people who cared about him. Surely that was the best definition of ‘living life to the fullest’.

 _‘Still….’_ Sweets frowned. Something was still missing, and he needed to figure out what that was.


	4. Chapter 4

Booth had brought in Aragon’s business partner, Sophia, to inform her that they had caught the murder. Before talking to her, Sweets pulled Booth aside.

“When you’re done, could I speak to her?” he said. Booth cocked his head to the side a bit.

“Sure, I guess,” he said. “What for?”

“There’s…there’s something important that I need to tell her,” Sweets said, somber. Booth looked him in the eye for a moment and then nodded.

“I understand,” he said. “Go ahead.”

While Booth spoke with her, Sweets went back to his office and brought up the file that had Aragon’s letters. He selected certain ones and printed them up.

Sweets sighed and he paper clipped them together. He wasn’t really sure why he was doing this, but something inside him was insisting that he tell this woman the truth about Aragon’s feelings.

* * *

 

As Sweets listened to her read the letters out loud, he felt something overtake him. He stood up and faced the window, as she read.

The words were poetic and romantic. They weren’t Sweets’ own, but he suddenly felt some sort of connection as Aragon described the woman he loved. Soon he began to substitute his own words while thinking about Daisy.

‘ _The way her brown eyes light up when she sees me. The curl of her hair trailing down her neck while she’s bent over her computer, working on her dissertation. The gentle touch as she holds my hand, when I’ve had a bad day.’_

Sweets turns when he hears Sophia express disbelief at what he was telling her. He sat down and looked her in the eye.

“I wouldn’t want to let my fear prevent me from telling you how I felt,” he said. He was referring to Aragon, but Sweets suddenly understood why he decided to tell her about Aragon’s feelings.

He was trying to find the courage to face his own. That was what he was still missing.

* * *

 

Sweets went back to his apartment after finishing with Aragon’s partner. He went straight to his bedroom closet and pulled out a large trunk. He knelt down in front of it and opened it up. It was filled with mementos of his childhood: toys that had sentimental value, certificates that he had won, a couple of photo albums filled with photographs. He dug around until he found what he was looking for: a small, black box.

He opened it up, and inside was an engagement ring. It was his mother’s ring.  It was a small diamond in a simple setting, but Sweets remembered how his mother, Carolyn, was so proud of it.

‘ _It’s not the size of the diamond; it’s the size of the heart of the man who gave it to me,’_ she would say. She gave it to Sweets not long after he applied to the FBI. At first he couldn’t accept it; he knew what it meant to her. But Carolyn insisted.

 _‘I have your father’s love. I don’t need this ring,’_ she told him. ‘ _I want you to give it to the woman who will complete your life the way David did mine.’_

It was the last thing she ever gave him. She died a couple months later.

Ever since her death, Sweets kept her ring in this trunk. After a while, he began to believe that there was no chance that he would find anyone that he could ever give this ring to: the ring that held the seemingly endless love that his parents had for each other.

As he stared at it, he began to remember another conversation that he had with his father.

By this point, he was nineteen. Carolyn had fallen ill and Lance had come to visit with her for a week. To reassure himself that his mother was still with him.

He also came because he was still nursing a broken heart. It had been six months since he had broken up with the first true love of his life, Laurel. More accurately, it had been six months since she had dumped him. It was the day after she had first seen his scars. The next day she was telling him that she couldn’t deal with his ‘issues’. That had hurt Lance deeply; he had meant it when he said that he loved her. Fortunately, his parents had been there to help pick up the pieces.

Lance had been sitting at the dining room, typing away on his laptop, when his father sat down next to him.

‘ _Your mother’s asleep now,’ David said. ‘She’s feeling better, and she should be up and around by tomorrow.’ Lance let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding._

_‘Thank God,’ he said, slumping in his chair. His father tilted his head at him._

_‘Are you working on your book?’ he asked. Lance nodded. ‘Can’t wait to read it.’_

_‘I don’t know Dad. It might be kind of dry for you.’ Lance looked over to see David giving him an intense stare._

_‘Lance, I read everything that you write,’ he said._ _Lance hung his head._

_‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’ David patted his shoulder._

_‘Don’t worry about it, sport.’ He stared at Lance for a moment before speaking again._

_‘You’re thinking of that girl again, aren’t you?’_   _Lance shook his head._

_‘Dad, are you sure you don’t have a psychology degree hidden away somewhere?’ David laughed a bit at that._

_‘Maybe I’ve just been doing some instructive reading,’ he grinned. He then resumed his intense gaze. ‘Look sport, I know she hurt you deeply, but this is part of the risk you take when you choose to love someone. You run the risk that they will not be able to love you back.’_

_‘I know. I know,’ Lance said, looking down. ‘I know I should move on, but…’ He took a deep breath and looked back over at David. ‘Dad, when you met Mom…how did you know? I mean, how did you know she was the one?’ David nodded and leaned back in his chair. They were both silent for a moment._

_‘Well despite what you see in movies, it was not this single earth-shattering moment,’ David finally said. ‘Nor was it this elaborate series of stages, like I’m sure your professors taught you. The truth is, it all had to do with coffee.’_

_‘Coffee?’_

_‘I had met your mother while I was still in college. One day, she came to visit me while I was studying for finals. She decided to make me a cup of coffee, and it didn’t occur to me until she sat a cup beside me that I hadn’t told her how I like it. After all we hadn’t been dating that long. But I realized that she had made it just the way I like it. No sugars and one cream.’ David’s eyes became wistful._

_‘It didn’t come to me right then. But after thinking at it for a while, I realized the significance of that gesture. She took the time to memorize that detail because she was integrating herself into my life. Looking at my own habits, I came to the conclusion that I was doing the same thing. And that’s when I knew that I needed her in my life.’_

_‘Wow,’ Lance said. ‘I…I didn’t know it could be like that.’ He felt his father put his arm around him._

_‘It will be like that for you someday, Lance. I’m sure of it. The trick is, once you find it, don’t let it go. Don’t let go of the person who makes your time worthwhile. Because that is the one who make you an even better person than you already are.’_

Back in the present, Sweets cupped the box in his palms and began to think of his time with Daisy.

He remembered movie nights where they had snuggled together on a couch and shared pizza. He remembered the long talks they would have about his work and her graduate studies. He remembered the nights after a grueling day of interviewing psychopaths and counseling agents that he spent in her arms.

One night in particular that he remembered was the night that he told her the whole truth about the scars on his back. He had made a passing reference at one point after she saw them. But then he finally worked up the courage to sit down with her one night and tell her everything. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. There were only two other people that he had ever told this to and none of them had been his past lovers. By the end of his story, he was sobbing.

He looked up to see that Daisy had tears in her eyes as well. Tears and the shine of anger. She had gently embraced him after that.

“I’m so sorry, Lancelot.”

Coming from anyone else, that would have seemed trite. But Sweets knew that she meant every word. She didn’t say anything else that night. She just held while he cried. After that, she never said another word about it. And to Sweets’ relief, she did not change the way she treated him one bit.

 As hard as that was to share with her, Sweets was glad he did it. He felt better somehow, like the dark cloud that surrounded his heart had been lifted a little more. Their love was not perfect; he had come to realize that no true love ever was.  But it was getting harder and harder to imagine his life without her in it.

Sweets snapped the box shut and stood up, putting it in his pocket. He put the trunk back in his closet and walked down to get his car, resolute. He was nervous as he drove toward the Jeffersonian; his hands shook a bit as he gripped the steering wheel.

Sweets knew what he needed to do. He just prayed that Daisy would accept his proposal.

* * *

 

Walking into the lab, Sweets looked up to see Daisy near the top of a ladder, adjusting some bones into one the many containers that lined the walls. She heard him come in and turned.

“Don’t touch the bones,” she said. Sweets couldn’t help but smile a little. He could tell that she was worried about what he was going to say to her, yet she still was passionate about her work here in the Medico-Legal Lab. It was yet another reason he had fallen for her.

“Did it look like I was going to touch the bones?” Sweets said, trying to lighten the mood a little. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” As he talked to her, he couldn’t help but be concerned with how controlled she seemed. As she stared at him, Sweets saw something in her eye that he understood all too well: fear. Fear of being rejected. He was glad that she made her way down the ladder so that he could be closer to her while he talked.

“Will I like what you’ve decided?” Daisy asked the worry finally creeping into her voice.

“I don’t know,” Sweets gulped. He meant that too. For once, he could not read what Daisy was thinking and it scared him.

“I just know that don’t want to spend any more time away from you than I have to,” he told her. He swallowed hard and looked down. It was hard for him to keep his focus. He just kept staring at her, trying to figure out what she was feeling. “I’m doing this wrong.”

He then pulled out his mother’s ring and showed it to her. Sweets explained how it held the decades of love that his parents had for each other, despite its plain appearance. Still trying hard to stop himself from trembling, he got down on one knee and held out the ring to her.

“Daisy, will you be my wife?”

For a moment, she just stood there and Sweets couldn’t decide what her face was saying: shock, love, disgust, disbelief. Never before had he wished that she would start talking as much as he did right then.   Then she moved closer and put her hands on the sides of his head, the warmth of fingers seeping through.

“I would be very happy….” Sweets could barely hear the rest of it as she accepted and kissed him. She then looked back into his eyes again.

“I’m sorry about all the bad things, but that earth quake was the luckiest thing in the world for me,” Daisy beamed and kissed him again. Sweets laughed a little inside. That statement was just so…Daisy. Seeing the good, even in things that were bad, even if most could never see it that way.

As Sweets kissed her again, he realized that, right now, it had been the luckiest thing in the world for him too.


End file.
